The Birth of Krishna, the Blue God
Once upon a time there lived a wicked king called Kans, who ruled over Mathura, a kingdom that sprawled on the banks of the Yamuna River.
He should not have been king at all, for the real ruler was Kans’s father, but he languished in a dungeon where his wicked son had put him.
Kans had a sister called Devaki, a sweet, gentle girl who had reached the age of marriage. Kans approached his sister one day and said, ‘Devaki, I have arranged a match for you with a young, handsome man called Vasudev. He is of noble parentage and very wealthy. Your horoscopes match perfectly. The marriage will be good for you, good for Vasudev, and will prove quite beneficial to this court.’
The wedding took place as planned, but just as Devaki and Vasudev were about to leave for their new home, a wise man appeared at Kans’s elbow and whispered, ‘Do not let this couple go. Do you not know that you are doomed to die at the hands of their child?’
Kans went wild with fury. He pulled at Devaki’s hair, drew his sword, and was about to cut her head off when his chief minister intervened. ‘Your majesty, why commit the crime of killing your sister on her wedding night in full view of all the guests? Would it not be easier to throw – quietly of course – the couple in prison? Then, as and when the children are born, we can dispose of them. No one need know what is going on.’
Kans agreed to the plan. Devaki and Vasudev were thrown into prison where they became quite devoted to each other.
In time, Kans received the news that Devaki had given birth to a baby daughter. He sneaked into the prison through the back door. ‘Where is the child?’ he thundered as he entered the cell. Before Devaki could let out a yell, he had picked up the baby and thrown it to the ground.
The baby, instead of just lying there, turned into a bolt of lightning that zigzagged upwards towards heaven, calling:
‘Kans, you have done an evil thing
But I am not the one you seek
My brother is yet to be born
He will come and kill you.’
Six other daughters were born to Devaki. Kans came and killed each of them and as he did so each turned into a bolt of lightning that zigzagged towards heaven, calling:
‘Kans, you have done an evil thing
But I am not the one you seek
My brother is yet to be born
He will come and kill you.’
It was on the eighth day of the waning moon in August, and the monsoon raged outside the prison cell. Vast armies of black clouds marched across the skies, accompanied by drum rolls of thunder. The rain poured and poured. Roads were turned into rivulets and rivers into seas.
On such a dark, dark night, yet another baby was born to Devaki. It was Krishna.
No sooner did he let out his first little cry, than Vasudev, his father, heard a voice from heaven saying, ‘Now, now. Take the baby now. Take him to Gokul across the Yamuna River and exchange him for your sister’s newborn daughter. Return before dawn and all will be well.’
‘But the locks … the guards … the swollen river …’ Vasudev hesitated.
‘Have no fear,’ said the voice.
Vasudev wrapped the newborn baby in the few rags he could lay his hands on. When he got to the cell doors he found that they were open and the guards around them were sleeping.
He carried the baby Krishna past the cell door and out into the wet street. When the lightning crackled overhead it gave a brief flash of light. Otherwise, he was surrounded by the deepest darkness.
At last Vasudev came to the banks of the Yamuna River. The monsoon rains had changed its gentle summer character so that it was now like an angry ocean, roaring in the darkness. Whenever the lightning flashed all Vasudev could see was water. Nothing but water, its surface stirred up into huge waves and nasty, circling whirlpools.
Vasudev had no choice. The baby had to be taken across the river to Gokul if his life was to be saved.
He put Krishna into a threshing basket and tucked the basket firmly in the crook of his right arm. Then he waded in.
Vasudev could hardly believe it. The water seemed to be rising even as he walked. He transferred the basket to the top of his head, but the water rose higher. Soon it was up to his nose.
What the poor human father did not realize was that the river was rising only because it wished to touch the god Krishna’s feet.
The baby knew this. Very gently he lowered a tiny foot so it dangled down from the basket, low enough to touch the water. At once the mighty Yamuna River receded and parted, making a path for father and son. As they crossed the river bed the waters closed behind them.
In Gokul, Vasudev made straight for the house of his sister, Yashoda. There he exchanged his son for his newborn niece, then returned to his cell just the way he had left it.
Next morning, Kans got word that Devaki had given birth to yet another daughter. Again, he sneaked in through the back door and snatched the baby up to kill it.
But this time, the baby girl flew right out of his hands crying,
‘Kans, you intended to do an evil thing
But I am not the one you seek
He is born already
And safely tucked away.’
Kans was furious. He raved at Vasudev and Devaki for deceiving him. He yelled at the gods, ‘I will get the boy. You wait. He is not getting away from me. Nobody defies King Kans.’
Kans issued a royal decree that would take care, once and for all, of his little enemy: all newborn males in the kingdom were to be put to death.
The King’s soldiers went forth – into every little hut and every palace – and they slaughtered every male child that was under twelve months of age. The parents screeched and cried but Kans was immune to their pain.
Finally, he was secure from all threats to his life.
What he did not know was that Krishna was not in his kingdom at all. Gokul lay outside his domain. The baby Krishna was safe.